World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

He turned around, his gaze sweeping across every face on the bridge: "But we can't afford to accidentally hit the Fuxing. So I have two things for you: First, prioritize targeting the enemy ship furthest from the Fuxing—the Kirishima. It's 15,000 yards away, relatively safe. Second, use delayed-fuze high-explosive shells for the first test firing to confirm the trajectory deviation."

"High-explosive rounds?" The chief of staff was taken aback. "Don't we need armor-piercing rounds?"

"The test firing used high-explosive shells," Zhang Zhen explained. "High-explosive shells produce a larger water column when they explode on the water's surface, making them easier to observe and correct. Moreover, even if they accidentally hit the Fuxing, the damage to the armor from high-explosive shells is far less than that from armor-piercing shells."

He paused, then added, "The second round begins. Switch to armor-piercing shells and concentrate fire for spot-calling. Attention all ships, target assignments are as follows: Yangtze River for Kongo, Yellow River for Hiei, Huaihe for Haruna, and Pearl River for Kirishima. Understand?"

"Understood!" came the unified response from the bridge.

"Very good." Zhang Zhen glanced at the clock. "6:39. Give each ship one minute to prepare. 6:40 sharp, first test firing."

The order was rapidly transmitted via encrypted radio to the other three Bismarck-class battleships. Almost simultaneously, similar orders were issued on the bridges of the Yellow River, Huai River, and Pearl River, approximately 500 meters behind and to the sides of the Yangtze.

Fire control radar room of the Huaihe battleship.

Radar operator Li Zhiming took off his headphones and rubbed his red eyes. He had been staring at the screen for six hours straight, but he wasn't sleepy at all. The four clear dots on the screen represented four enemy ships besieging the Fuxing.

"Target data updated," he said into the intercom. "Haruna, 27,500 yards away, heading 305, speed 23 knots. Strong heat signal from the superstructure, indicating boilers are running at full capacity."

"Roger that." The fire control officer's voice came through the loudspeaker. "Load high-explosive shells into the main guns. Set the delay fuse to 0.05 seconds. Move the aiming points of turrets one and three forward by 200 yards. Keep the aiming points of turrets two and four unchanged. Set up crossfire."

Li Zhiming's fingers danced rapidly across the control panel. As one of the first graduates of the radar program at the Dubai Naval Academy, he had practiced this kind of ultra-long-range shooting countless times on simulators. But simulators and real combat are ultimately different.

"Little Li, Little Li." The old radar operator next to him patted him on the shoulder. "Nervous?"

Li Zhiming nodded honestly, "A little. Uncle Wang, what about you?"

"Me?" Old Wang laughed, revealing teeth stained yellow from tobacco. "I've seen British, French, and Italian fleets in the Mediterranean. But a scene like today... this is truly a first."

He leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the dots of light: "Twenty-eight thousand yards... At this distance, the Japanese have no idea where the shells are coming from. They can't even see us."

"That's the power of radar," Li Zhiming said.

"It's not just the radar," Old Wang shook his head, "it's the entire system—the radar, the fire control computer, the stabilization aiming device, and these four behemoths of ours. Little Li, do you know, we're making history?"

"history?"

"Yes, history." Old Wang's tone turned serious. "From now on, the rules of naval warfare will be rewritten. It will no longer be two groups of ships sailing to within sight of each other and then firing in formation. Instead... like this."

He pointed to the screen: "Like a hunter hiding in the shadows, shooting down unsuspecting prey with his bow and arrow."

Suddenly, an order came through the intercom: "Attention all personnel, thirty-second countdown. Radar room, final confirmation of target data."

Li Zhiming took a deep breath, banishing distracting thoughts from his mind. His fingers returned to the control panel, his eyes fixed intently on every parameter on the screen.

Twenty seconds.

ten seconds.

"Target data locked, error margin ±15 yards," he reported into the intercom.

Five seconds.

Three, two, one.

It was exactly 6:40 a.m.

Zhang Zhen stood on the bridge of the Yangtze River, raised his right hand, and then swung it down sharply.

"All ships fire!"

The command was instantly transmitted to each turret via wired communication. On the fore and aft decks of the Yangtze, four twin-mounted 380mm main gun turrets simultaneously spewed forth blazing flames up to thirty meters long. The muzzle storm forced a noticeable dent into the seawater at the bow, and the immense recoil caused the 41,000-ton behemoth to drift several meters aft.

Almost simultaneously, the main guns of the Yellow River, Huai River, and Pearl River also roared.

The simultaneous firing of thirty-two 380mm main guns produced a sound wave like hundreds of thunderbolts exploding in his ears. Even inside the confined bridge, Zhang Zhen could feel the air vibrating and his eardrums buzzing.

But he didn't close his eyes or cover his ears. He just stood there, his hands behind his back, looking at the almost invisible black dots on the distant horizon.

It takes time for a shell to travel through the air. A 380mm shell has an initial velocity of approximately 820 meters per second and takes about 31 seconds to travel a distance of 28,000 yards (about 25600 meters).

Thirty-one seconds is usually just half a minute. But at this moment, on the bridge of the Yangtze, those 31 seconds felt like an eternity.

Zhang Zhen could hear his own heartbeat, the suppressed breathing of his staff behind him, and the electrical static coming from the radar room. But his eyes never left that direction.

25 seconds.

30 seconds.

31 seconds.

The Kongo-class battleship, its bridge.

Kato Tomosaburo had just finished bandaging the wound on his forehead. The medic had wrapped the bandage around his head several times, and blood was still slowly seeping out. But he couldn't care less; all his attention was focused on the burning behemoth before him.

The Fuxing was almost stopped on the sea surface. It was listing to starboard at an angle of more than 15 degrees, smoke was billowing from the superstructure, and only two of its main guns remained, capable of occasional return fire. The Hiei and Haruna were approaching from both sides, preparing to deliver a final blow with torpedoes.

"It's over," Kato muttered to himself. He felt no joy of victory, only a strange weariness. The battle had been far more difficult than he had anticipated, and the Kongo had sustained considerable damage. But regardless, the outcome was good.

The Imperial Navy once again proved its power. The Lanfang Navy, however, was ultimately just a flash in the pan.

"Sir!" a hurried shout suddenly came from the watchtower, "Southeast! Four clusters of water have been spotted! Suspected enemy warships, distance... distance cannot be determined! Very high!"

Kato was taken aback, grabbed his binoculars, and rushed to the starboard side. He looked in the direction the lookout had indicated, and indeed, he could see four tall white columns of water slowly descending at the edge of the horizon.

But the water column was... too far away. So far that it was almost touching the horizon.